


Beauty Blooms in a Sea of Thorns

by ThreeKnivesInAWineGlass



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Angst, Faeries - Freeform, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Magic, Trauma, abusive parental figure
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-02 21:52:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19450231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThreeKnivesInAWineGlass/pseuds/ThreeKnivesInAWineGlass
Summary: Hansol reaches behind himself, into his waistband, and slowly pulls out the deer antler stake he carved weeks ago. If he can just get it through the damned monster’s ribs, he can go home, and he can take Minghao with him. He can get them both out of here.





	Beauty Blooms in a Sea of Thorns

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The characters I write about are inferred from public personas but should not be taken as accurate portrayals of their real world counterparts. Some fans have a hard time separating fantasy and reality, so before you read my story, I implore you to recognize these as characters, not celebrities. Please don’t project what you read in stories onto real people. Please respect real people.
> 
> Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy my fic.

Hansol holds his breath as he sets the ornate bowl in front of the fiend seated at the head of the table. He hopes to everything good, on every plane of existence, that the mushrooms go undetected. If they are noticed, Hansol might never get a chance to kill the menace again, or any more of its kind.

The beast lifts the bowl to its lips, ever so close to touching, to taking a sip, and then lowers it. The pits of its eyes attempt to pierce Hansol, but he knows his barriers are firm, and so he stands confidently, quietly, patiently.

“You didn’t add anything to this, did you, Brat?” it asks and Hansol shakes his head. It stares at him for a moment, waiting for something, until it seemingly gets bored and sighs, extending its hand to the side as it says, “Minghao, eat it.”

Long fingers carefully take the bowl from the creature’s palm, but Hansol doesn’t let himself track them as they leave his peripheral vision. He doesn't let himself follow the movement as it arcs up towards lips that he’s usually all too aware of. He decidedly keeps his gaze on the twin voids that dare him to give up, to show his cards and fold.

The game is something Hansol’s terribly familiar with by now, having been taught how to play long before he encountered any actual fae. The methodology is simple, something Hansol learned to recite by heart easily enough, but the practice was engraved into his muscle memory even faster, speed necessary if he wished to keep his mind for himself. And Hansol does wish for that, very much so.

Being invaded is not an experience that Hansol wants to ever repeat.

He reminds himself of the rules, repeats them over and over, a mantra to keep his heartbeat steady. They lie. Don’t listen. Don’t let them in. Don’t let your guard down. They lie. Don’t listen. Don’t let them in. Don’t let your guard down.

His focus is broken when a retching sound shatters the silence, ringing sharply throughout the room. Whipping his head to the side reflexively, Hansol sees Minghao doubled over the table, a hand held over his mouth and his eyes squeezed shut as he continues to cough.

“As I thought,” the faerie says, rising to its feet, and the motion would be elegant if Hansol didn’t know any better. It seems to want to kill Hansol with just its eyes as it sneers, “You harvested a faerie circle.”

No. No, no, no. This isn’t right. Minghao shouldn’t have given it away. He shouldn’t have reacted at all. He’s not a fae - changeling or not, he isn’t fae!

Pain blooms around the edges of his mind, the sensation of claws sinking into flesh, and Hansol ducks his head, clutches at his hair as he tries to concentrate, rebuild his barriers. He must have dropped them when Minghao startled- His thoughts cut off as the pain creeps further, making Hansol groan as he fights the urge to sink to his knees and curl in on himself. This fae is definitely one of the stronger ones Hansol’s gone after.

The faerie laughs. “I haven’t been able to play like this in a long time. I thought I sensed you were a hunter but I’m actually impressed you held out so long, Brat.” A pause. “My, that’s interesting, isn’t it. No vengeance or wrath in that little head of yours? Curious….”

The pain shifts from claws to teeth, biting down with vicious pressure, and then it lets go, or at least eases enough for Hansol to lift his head. He expects to see the faerie grinning at him, for it to taunt him, but the faerie isn’t even looking at him. Its gaze is directed away from him, to where Minghao’s sword is aimed at its chest.

“Leave his mind alone,” Minghao rasps, and guilt flickers in Hansol. He didn’t know Minghao would eat the mushrooms, didn’t think he’d react even if he did, but does that absolve him of the harm it caused? Is it his fault that Minghao’s throat is burned raw? It feels like it is.

The grip on Hansol releases entirely, the whiplash of normality after the harsh pressure behind his eyes like a head rush. He’s quick to put his barriers up again, and to put some physical distance between himself and the faerie, as well. He never stops watching it though, observing every second that it glares at Minghao with irritation obvious in its clenched jaw.

“Do not point that at me,” it hisses threateningly, but its eyes glance between Minghao’s face and the cold iron tip, a slight break in its composure. When Minghao doesn’t lower his hand, the faerie clicks its tongue and straightens. Its voice is loud, demanding, as it says, “Drop your sword, Minghao.”

Minghao resolutely stares at the faerie for a moment, and then his sword falls, metal clattering against stone as he gasps, sending him into another coughing fit. He leaves Hansol’s line of sight when the faerie turns its back on him, stepping to the side as if specifically to block Minghao, and there’s a sickening thud when it commands, “Kneel.”

The faerie seems to forget Hansol, zeroing in on Minghao entirely. Now is another chance - maybe Hansol’s last one.

Hansol reaches behind himself, into his waistband, and slowly pulls out the deer antler stake he carved weeks ago. If he can just get it through the damned monster’s ribs, he can go home, and he can take Minghao with him. He can get them both out of here.

He prepares, curls his fingers repeatedly around the antler until it feels right, and then he lunges. The rush of adrenaline that wants to flood his veins is halted however, his blood running cold instead, as the faerie catches his wrist, twists, forces Hansol’s fingers to unfurl and drop the antler as it turns to face him again.

“We’re full of surprises today, aren’t we,” it says dryly. It leans in slightly, studies Hansol’s face, before it continues, “Why don’t you just give up? If not anger, what is it that pushes you to risk your life facing my kind? A few successes means nothing, you know. There will always be more of us. We will always be stronger than you. Our victory is inevitable.”

Holding himself carefully to try and minimize the strain on his wrist, Hansol swallows and says, “But there’ll be a few less of you because of me. If nothing else, I can postpone your reign, and that’s worth something.”

The faerie looks like it wants to spit in Hansol’s face, and it does so verbally, saying, “You are worth nothing, Brat,” before throwing Hansol on the floor.

Hansol’s collision is violent. The stone cuts through the shoulder of his shirt, manages to burn his skin in a way that has either broken the surface or will at least leave it a tender mix of purple and red. It takes him a moment to recollect himself, and by the time he looks up again, the faerie has pushed its chair back and is standing beside Minghao, curling fingers into his hair as Minghao looks up at it and whispers, words only audible to Hansol with the echo of the room, “Please. Please, spare him. I’m sorry. Don’t hurt him, punish me, please.”

Something slimy curls in Hansol’s gut as the faerie looks at him again, its eyes hollow, unreadable, as it continues to pet Minghao and softly says, “Stop pleading, my child. I understand.” Minghao falls silent, his gaze dropping to Hansol before quickly settling on the floor, and shakes beneath the hand in his hair. The sight causes the sick feeling to move up, coil around Hansol’s stomach and squeeze.

“Rebellion grows in you like a weed, Brat. Invasive,” the faerie says openly, the sudden loudness making Hansol tense. Its expression is bored, but the glint in its eyes tells Hansol how earnest its words are as it adds, “I will enjoy breaking you."

**Author's Note:**

> Worldbuilding needs some serious work but I'm committed to the base premise, which is - Vernon hunts evil faeries and The8 is sad. (Sorry, The8.)
> 
> -  
> Art exists to be witnessed.
> 
> If you’re so inclined after reading my fic, comments are always appreciated, especially if you have thoughts, feelings, or questions about the story. Regardless of whether it’s long or short, comments let me know that my work was engaged with, which, as a writer, is all I hope for those reading my fic to do.


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